Eleventh

Wheee. The straight hair is gone. I miss it. It was so tangle-free, and easy to pull out of my coat, and pretty and smooth. Oh well. Showering felt pretty good, so it was a worthy trade.

There have been some really good subway performers lately. Or maybe I’m just going to 34th street more, and that’s where the really good ones hang out and I just didn’t notice. The best one was probably the guy with the leather pants and long hair rocking the pants off of his electric violin. It was rather thrilling to watch. Complete with little jumps, and hopping on one leg waving the other around.

The last few days have been weird. I kind of feel like I’m always in transit, on the subway or on my way to it. This isn’t true at all. After my interview, I came home, dropped off my portfolio, and went right back out again. The interview went well, though really short. I went in, we spent all of 4 minutes looking through my portfolio, all off 7 minutes looking at his projects, and then all of three minutes walking out to get him coffee and me to the subway. But I got the job. I get to draft in vectorworks for an architect, doing all sorts of crazy section and elevation work. It’s pretty cool. I’m mildly terrified I’ll fuck it up. maybe not. Anyway. I went home, dropped stuff off, picked stuff up, and went to the run thru for the silly show I’m designing. It’s not so silly. It’s even kind of good. Reading it, it’s two 25 minute monologues stuck together, about these women in New York. Big whoopie. But then when I saw it the other day, I got it. I understood why you’re supposed to care about them, and why they were written. So, come see it, if you’re in New York. ‘Kitty and Lina’ at the Manhattan Theatre Source, opening this coming thursday, closing the 27th.

On my way to the run thru, I picked up a slice of pizza at the place on the corner. As I was walking down the street eating it, like you do, this girl coming towards me said ‘oh my god, that pizza looks so good, where did you get it?’ I told her, and then she asked me if I knew where any sex toy shops were nearby. I didn’t.

I went straight from the meeting to John’s, and ended up spending the night. We watched Stardust, which he realized at the end he had read, and then watched a bunch of cooking shows, Kichen: Impossible and Good Eats, until we were exhausted, and it was almost 3am. He lives with his family, and for the longest time I wasn’t allowed to stay over, because he’d been lectured before about that sort of thing making an impression on his little sister. But I guess they’ve decided that she’s old enough (at 19), as the one other time I stayed over, his mom made me scrambled eggs. This time I got pancakes. Pretty good deal.

I know it’s weird that he lives with his family at his age, but at the same time it’s not. He’s paying part of the mortage, he’s looking for a place to buy, and he’s one of those people that thinks renting is throwing money away. He’s kind of right. And it means I get fed really well. So it works.

He drove me home, I took my shower, and then went to a couple more meetings for the not-so-silly-anymore show. They went well and quickly. I think they really like me. I should get over wanting people to like me. But in this case, they liked my in the first meeting because I had my shit together and went through the script quickly and explained my ideas along the way. In the second, they liked me because I was cheeky and witty and got the production manager pretty good for all the shit he usually gives me. Moving on from my neurosis. Here’s where the day got stupid. I leave that, heckuv early, and call John, he had asked if I was coming back over. He’s working on planning his Costa Rica trip, mapping out what to do when and all that. I was sort of hesitant to come over two days in a row, but he was fairly persistent in saying ‘it’s up to you’ and ‘so are you coming over here?’. He’s very noncommital and doesn’t ever want to tell someone what to do, and so you get used to interpreting the different levels. Usually, it really is up to me, and he’d like to see me, but either way is fine. This time, he wanted to see me. So I went home first, to get the dress that I asked his mom about fixing. It’s this great 40’s style goldish/tan velvety dress with elbow length sleeves, and a collar and it buttons all the way down the front. The thing is, it was stage rigged, so the buttons are all snaps, so you need to take the buttons off, move them to the other side, and put button holes where they used to be. She’s good at this sort of stuff. So I took that, and went back to the train. At the transfer point, I was reading and got on the wrong train. I got off as soon as I noticed, but I got off without thinking, and found myself at a stop where my train didn’t. So I had to get back on another wrong train, get off at an actual transfer point, and catch the one I needed. Some days I shouldn’t be let out of the house.

They planned their trip while I plotted my lights. I needed to leave earlyish because I (thought I) had work in the morning. So we watched more food shows, and he drove me home at 1. This sucked. I wanted him to stay over, but knew it was a bad idea what with me having to get up at 8 30. But then I woke up and called, and ended up not going. Laaame. He’s coming over tonight, though.

It feels a little weird, seeing him this much. I think he’s anticipating missing me while he’s gone. He leaves monday morning, for nine days. I’m excited about getting postcards.

That’s about all I had to say. Laundry list. But with all this subway time I’ve had, I’ve gotten a lot of reading done. And that part has been good.

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